


Agent's Intuition

by lilybeanyates



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeanyates/pseuds/lilybeanyates
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

"Babydoll, can you go grab me a coffee?" Derek Morgan asks without looking up from his files. "Yeah, I gotcha, dolcezza," Bridgette touches his shoulder as she shimmies past him, twirling her way to the breakroom. "Hey, Bridgette," Spencer jogs to match her pace. "Hey, ragazzo carino," she smiles, craning her neck to look at the 6'1" doctor. "What are you doing tonight?" he asks.

"Mm, not much. I was thinking of taking Romeo to the park for some midnight play," She pushes past him gently, handing Morgan the cup of coffee. "Guys, we have to go, now. I'll explain in the air," Hotch rushes past, his bag and a file clutched to his chest. "What? Where are we going?" Bridgette grabs her duffel from under her desk and sprinting after him.

"Vegas. We have a hostage situation linked with a murder." They climb into the black SUV, with the young profiler smushed between Spencer and JJ. "Vegas," she mutters, digging her nails into her wrists. "Stop. What's going on?" JJ grabs her wrists.

"I'm from Vegas," she admits, leaning her head back and unbuttoning the first button of her shirt. *On the Jet* "So the original murder victim was Amelia Kelley. She was found in the alleyway behind the night club, Reminisce," Hotch says, and Bridgette begins to laugh. "What?" Rossi smiles crooked. "My nonno owns that club. My Uncle Jimmy runs it," she shakes her head. "Anyway, Mariah Cameron was reported missing last night and we have reason to believe that Amelia's murderer is our unsub,"

"They were both in choir in high school, and every other night at the club is open mic night. It's possible that our unsub is targeting vocal artists," the Italian agent offers, tapping her nails on her can of Diet Coke. "You know that Diet Coke is worse than regular Coke, right? The aspartame, or the artificial sweetener, is linked with heart disease and type-2 diabetes," Spencer says, a distracted look on his face.

"I know. It's a guilty pleasure. Soothes my anxiety," she shrugs, finishing it and tossing it into the waste basket. "So, I'm thinking I could go undercover," she suggests. "No," Spencer blurts. "Why?" "Absolutely not,"

"Tesoro, I have the advantage. My cousin Logan works the DJ booth, Lucas bartends, and Liam- well, he's just kinda there. All of the security staff has known me since I was a small child. You'll be there to back me, and I'll keep my dagger accessible. I won't draw unnecessary attention to myself, and if I do come in contact with the unsub, I am trained in self-defense," she assures him, pushing a piece of hair out of his eyes and he stammers, "I-I don't know,"

"Spence, she'll be fine. We'll be there, armed," JJ defends. "She also knows a lot of the regulars," Rossi adds. "See?" "Okay, but I don't like it," he looks at her warily. "Bene, è risolto," she smiles, kissing his shoulder gently. "When we land, I'll call Mamma and tell her we'll be staying there a few days. It's about an hour and a half away from Vegas, in Boulder City. I'll take the couch, JJ and Emily can take my room, and the two guest room each have two twin beds," Bridgette yawns, curling into a ball on her seat and using Spencer's arm as a pillow.

When she's asleep, Morgan raises an eyebrow at Spencer. "When did you become her dad?" he asks, and Spencer glares, adjusting to make her more comfortable. When they land, Bridgette refuses to wake up, so Morgan scoops her into his arms, carrying her through the airport and keeping her on his lap until they get on the train. "Babydoll, wake up," he mutters, shaking her shoulders, but she whines and hugs him tighter to her chest. He sighs and leans his head back.

"What," she yawns, stretching lightly as she wakes up. "Hey babydoll," he murmurs, smoothing the hair off of her forehead. "Mm," she groans, scooting off of his lap, into the seat previously occupied by her feet. "Sorry, Bellissimo," "We're about 10 minutes from the station. Do you want to call your mom?" Spencer whispers from her other side.

"Yeah," she pulls out her phone, hitting a few buttons and holding it to her ear. "Ciao mamma. Puoi fare in modo che lo zio Jimmy porti il camper alla stazione? Io e il team dobbiamo rimanere a casa per qualche giorno," "Certo, piccolo. Preparerò le stanze. C'è qualcos'altro di cui hai bisogno?" is the response. "No. Grazie ea presto," She hangs up as they're pulling into the station.

"Andiamo," Bridgette calls, leading her team onto the platform and leaning against a pole, waiting for the RV to pull up. "Jimmy, this is my team. Aaron Hotchner is the one who looks like he'll beat your ass for sneezing. David Rossi looks kind of like nonno, if nonno was deadly. JJ, or Jennifer Jareau, is the angelic blonde. Emily Prentiss looks like if zia Lina had dark hair, a gun, and a reason to use it. Derek Morgan is the badass hunk of danger and Dr. Spencer Reid is the Bellissimo secchione," she introduces, singing softly to herself in Italian.

"Una mattina mi sono alzato,O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao,Una mattina mi sono alzato,E ho trovato l'invasor." "What the hell were those descriptions?" Morgan laughs and she squints at him. "Shh. I'm sleeping," "That girl is the definition of perfect," JJ laughs, and she sits up, eyes still closed, and gestures blindly. "I am not responsible for anything I say within the next 5 hours," She falls back onto the couch, drifting off again. "How did she describe you?" Hotch asks Spencer. "She called me a,uh, beautiful nerd," he chuckles awkwardly, looking at the girl, asleep on the couch, one leg thrown over the top, her foot pressed against the window and her hair in her face. "Va bene, we have arrived," Jimmy calls back to the team, handing Hotch a spare house key.

"I assume I'll see you tomorrow at the club?" he asks as Morgan, once again, carries a sleeping Bridgette. "Yeah, absolutely. What time is good for you?" "Anytime before 6 pm," "Okay, see you then!" Jimmy calls as he drives away. When they walk inside, Mrs. Fiore is scurrying around the house, putting everything in order. "Benvenuto! La stanza di Bridgette è sulla sinistra e le altre sono dall'altra parte della sala," the 46 year old Italian woman says, gesturing to the rooms to clarify. They thank her and Morgan lays her gently on the couch, pulling the soft blanket over her chin.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hum," Bridgette yawns, stretching, rolling off of the couch. "Morning," she hears from the kitchen and shuffles in to find Spencer drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book. "Mm," she nods, ruffling his hair before grabbing eggs from the fridge. She spends a half-hour making a huge spread, consisting of scrambled eggs, home-fries, blueberry pancakes, a fruit salad, bacon, and juice. And the smell of the breakfast is enough to lure everyone out of their room.

Smiling, she skips to the sink to wash the skillets and pots. "You're not usually this perky," Emily comments, and she shrugs. "Nope. I'm going to change while you eat," she sashays playfully to her room. "What the here is going on with her?" Hotch asks, tightening his tie and shoveling eggs in his mouth. "Mm, this is really good," Morgan mumbles around a mouthful of pancake. It's quiet for a few minutes, everyone busy devouring the food, and then Bridgette comes back down in a pair of khaki joggers and a black T-shirt.

"Mamma is making arancini tonight," she tells everyone. "What is that?" JJ asks, and Spencer replies. "Arancini is an Italian dish. They are stuffed rice balls, usually filled with tomato sauce, mozzarella, and peas," "That sounds really good," Morgan sits back, a lazy grin spreading over his face. "It is," she affirms. "When we get back to Virginia, you need to invite all of us over and make us some Italian food," Morgan adds. "Sure, of course. I don't think I've actually had any of you over. Like, ever," When everyone is finished eating and dressed, they head to Mamma's minivan. "Spencer, Miele, you get a front seat. You need to leg room, giraffa," she adjusts the rearview mirror, pulling out and singing lightly.

"Amore, fermati Questa sera non andartene Un'orchestra tra le nuvole La tua canzone suonerà Amore, baciami Siamo soli, amore, baciami Forse è colpa della musica Ma non t'ho amato mai così," "What is that?" Morgan leans forward, resting his elbows on the middle console. "Amore Fermati, by Fred Bongusto," she turns the music up and sing the English version.

"Love, stop. Don't go away tonight. An orchestra in the clouds, your song will play. Love, kiss me. We are alone, love, kiss me. Maybe it's the fault of the music, but I've never loved you like this," "Wow. You have a good voice," the girls say, impressed. "Thanks. I grew up with Italian songs played at home, but whatever was popular in the club. I guess you could say that my music taste is diverse. Tiziano Ferro, Andrea Bocelli, Laura Pausini, they're Italian. Beyonce, Rihanna, Taylor Swift. Justin Beiber, Ed Sheeran, Maroon 5. Eminem, 50 Cent, Lil Wayne. XXXtentacion, Roddy Rich, Juice World. Conan Gray, Mxmtoon, Madison Beer. I like musicals. Hamilton, any Disney movie, stuff like that. The Beatles, Queen, Journey, Elvis, Michael Jackson,"

"That's a lot," Rossi laughs, and she shrugs, turning up the radio. Halo-Beyonce Radioactive-Imagine Dragons House of Memories- Panic! At The Disco Car Radio- Twenty One Pilots She Looks So Perfect- Five Seconds of Summer Yesterday- The Beatles Can't Help Falling in Love- Elvis Presley Thriller- Michael Jackson The Story- Conan Gray Dead- Madison Beer Champions- Queen 'Till I Collapse- Eminem Girl on Fire- Alicia Keys Underdog- Alicia Keys Best Song Ever- One Direction Walls- Louis Tomlinson Grease Lightning- John Travolta & the cast of Grease Into the Unknown- Idina Menzel We're all singing loudly and laughing when she pulls into the parking lot of the LVMPD Precinct. "Okay, you guys grab the cars and I'll meet you at the club. I'll have Logan drive it back or something," Bridgette tells them, twisting to look back at them. "I'm going to drive with you. I gotta talk to you about something," Morgan tells her, getting into the passenger seat when Spencer gets up. "'Kay. See you there, Squadra," she calls before pulling out. "What'd you have to tell me?" she asks.

"I think Spencer likes you," "What?No!" Her heart rate accelerated as she thought of him having feelings for her- ANY kind of feeling. "And you like him, too. Now, don't worry, I'll stay out of it. You two are perfect for each other, but I think it has to happen on its own. When I carried you to the train, you refused to let go of me, which is why you woke up on top of me. He seemed... Uncomfortable about it. He also doesn't like it when I call you babydoll,"

"But... You call me babydoll because I apparently look like a child's toy," she stutters, giggling nervously. "See how nervous you are now, just thinking about him? I think you both hide it when you're around each other, because when you're together, you're completely comfortable. But when you aren't together, he can't keep his eyes off of you," "Oh Mio dio, mi piace Lu," Bridgette mutters, parking in the employee lot of Reminisce. "What does that mean?" He furrows his brow. "Oh my god, I like him," she repeats in English.

"Yeah, you do, just... Pay attention to him whenever you and I mess around," he suggests, and she nods, turning off the engine and stepping out, unlocking the door to the employee entrance, holding it open with her foot while the team walks through. "Y'all look so official," the girl laughs, tugging playfully on Spencer's tie and eyeing Hotch's full suit. "Well," he shrugs. "Loosen up. You can't come into the club like that," she smiles, patting his chest.

"Jimmy?" she yells, tossing the keys onto the counter. "Hey, yo, Bitsy," she gets squished from behind, crying out in shock and turning to come face to face with her older cousin, Logan. "Stop calling me that," she whines, hugging him back. "Guys, this is Logan, my cousin. Meatball, where's Loser Lucas?" "Don't call me Meatball," He shoves her shoulder. "Don't call me Bitsy," She shoves him back. "But you're still so itty-bitty. Like the spider. The itsy-bitsy spider, you know?" "Yeah, dumbass, I get why I have the nickname, I just don't like it. Where is zio?" "He's in the back. Unloading some of the new strobe lights," she flicks him off before going behind the bar, gesturing for everyone to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

Jimmy," she calls, flicking on the lights in the breakroom, running her hands along the banged-up, graffitied wall, and going to the storage room. "Hey, passerota," Jimmy says from behind a rack. "We're going to need to see the crime scene. Was it disturbed much?" she asked after hugging him tightly.

"No, actually, I called your division first. Two nights ago a young girl- not much younger than you- came to find me and said that she couldn't find her friend. Said she wasn't the type to just go off with some guy. Anyway, I thought I recognized her when her friend showed me a picture. I figured she probably went to school with you. And then I went to take the trash out to the dumpster and found Amelia. I remembered seeing her on the karaoke stand a few days prior, but from what I could tell, she hadn't been dead long,"

"How'd you figure that?" Hotch asks, motioning for us to follow him into the alley behind the building, where there are dark stains on the faded asphalt. "Well, I used to help Bridge study, so I vaguely remembered a little bit. So, I realized that Bridgette was actually in choir with both girls, so I called your unit before contacting the police to come and examine, to take pictures and such. I'm actually glad that I was able to contact you beforehand, because the chief told me that there wasn't much they could do since there was no obvious connections," Bridgette crouches, placing her arms on the ground and lying on her chest, looking under the dumpster.

She sees a dark shadow a few feet away from her, but this dumpster is fairly large, so she won't be able to just reach for it. "Guys, help me move it," she stands back up, bracing herself on the ground and pushing with her shoulder, only moving it a few inches alone.

With the help of the Behavior Analysis team, we're able to completely shift the receptacle, revealing a bloody, crunchy, balled up tie, surrounding by faux pearl beads. "Gloves," she gestures at Spencer without looking, and snapping them on when he gives them to her. She lifts the tie, carefully un-balling it and examining the thread design.

"What're you looking for?" Jimmy asks, looking over her shoulder. "Most ties have either a specific threading design or, if it's a cheap tie, an inexpensive yet telling fabric. But... I don't recognize anything about this. In fact, it looks hand-made. Silk-satin, which isn't commonly used in... well, anything. The stitching around the edges are almost perfect, but are vehemently hand-threaded. Even the design is unique. I don't think I've ever seen a tie like this. It looks expensive to have made. Spencer, mio dolce, do you think we can run a DNA sample on the blood? See if it matches with Amelia. Maybe there's some DNA that would lead us to our unsub, but I seriously doubt it," the tie is handed to Reid, and he drops it in an evidence bag, handing it to Emily who puts it in her bag.

"What do you make of the pearls?" Hotch asks, crouching next to me. Bridgette moves over, crossing her legs under her thighs. Picking up a few of the pearls, she holds them up to the light.The light glimmers slightly, but it looks as though the outer enamel has been worn, so the plastic base is showing. "Bello," she says to Spencer, "What do you see?" He takes a seat behind her, hunching over to be her height and squinting. He reaches for the bead, and she drops a few in his palm. "They seem to be worn down somehow, possibly by rubbing or fiddling. Don't you rub your fingers when you're nervous or anxious, for any reason?" he notices, and the Italian prodigy nods.

"Yeah, the pressure on my joints relieves tension, and in a similar way, the consistent pressure, or possibly even just the pure smoothness of the bead could be a coping mechanism. But these didn't belong to Amelia," "How do we know that?" Morgan crouches to look at the spot where the dead girl previously laid. "In the pictures," she gestures, and JJ hands me the folder.

The picture of the body is pulled, and they are momentarily stunned at the pure aggressiveness of the killing. "Her...ahem...her throat was completely destroyed, mutilated. It looks like the nerves in her larynx were severed, and if she wasn't already dead by then, she would have died soon after. But, from what I remember from school and from the statements her friends and family have given, she was very... dispassionate about fake jewelry. 

"She had the finances for a real string of pearls, so she wouldn't be caught dead wearing plastic. What if these belonged to Mariah? Our unsub may have broken the strand in the struggle to subdue her. Honestly, I think that even though we have found some evidence of something, and that it is more likely than not remnant of the incident, we won't find much on our guy," She stands, pulling the gloves off and sliding them in her purse, in case there's anyway she could've acquired DNA without meaning to.

"Our unsub is male. Egotistical, probably white. Late 20's to early 30's. Amelia worked a few gigs at several different casinos, being the live artist for multiple events and parties. And while Mariah was more...reserved, I guess is the right word, she would become outgoing and sociable while drinking. Like any other adult in Las Vegas, she enjoyed going to casinos, if not for gambling then just for the experience and company of all types of people.

She was reserved but enjoyed mingling with others. Every year in high school she was enrolled in a Sociology class, and in her first year in college she majored in behavioral science, but she ended up dropping out in her second semeseter. She enjoyed people-watching. That was why she went to social gatherings. She never really fit in with her group of friends but she loved them anyway. She was diagnosed with depression at a young age and grew up in an abusive household. She used singing as an outlet.

She was hospitalized when she was 14 for a suicide attempt, and held for 3 months while doctor's evaluated whether she was safe to join society again. Her father, the abuser, got arrested, and she took up drinking. She normally drank alone, but soon her friends began pressuring her to go out for drinks with them. She was actually a regular here,"

"How the hell did you get all of that?" Morgan raises an eyebrow, eyes wide. "Well, I assume she took the information from the statements, along with memories from high school, and she probably was fond of Mariah at some point," Spencer stands next, dropping the beads into a smaller evidence bag, each hitting each other with a dull plink.

Bridgette Fiore takes a deep breath and leans back, then straightening, bracing herself on the brick wall and twisting her hips, the lower back cracking loudly. "Mio dio, piccola scimmia, one day something is going to break," Jimmy laughs. She answers by simply shrugging. "Is Lucas here yet?" "Probilimente. He's most likely cleaning the bar and preparing for tonight. Open mic night gets a lot of clubbers," Jimmy replies. She nods.

"Lo ricordo. It was horrible. So many people. And you'd make me help clean up after lock-up," she chuckles."Anyway, I should probably go and get ready. We're going to come here tonight, and I'm going to be looking for the unsub. He seems to enjoy our special events, so I was thinking I could lure him in and just... I don't know... drop him?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Bree," Spencer says, amusement in his voice. "Yes, il Mio Amore?" "It's 6 o'clock. Open mic night doesn't even officially start until 7:30, and we don't even have to be there then. In fact, it's probably better if we don't arrive until after 8 o'clock, to give our unsub time to scope out the crowd,"

"La mia bellisimo Giraffa," she laughs, "I haven't been to this club since graduation. 10 years, it's been. Don't question the process," She kiss Jimmy's cheek and turns to walk away when he calls, "Non rinunciare al dottore, appartieni insieme!" "I don't want your love advice, Jimmy!" she calls back, rolling her eyes.

Morgan and Bridgette get back in the van, talking the whole way back to Boulder City."Babydoll, tell me you felt the connection between you and Dr. Genius," he says, his voice low. "I didn't feel anything," she protest, flicking his knee playfully. "Fine. What love advice did your uncle give you?" "He said, 'Don't give up on the doctor, you belong together'," she frowned, rubbing at her wrist absentmindedly.

"The rubbing. Are you nervous?" "Yeah, although I'm not quite sure why. It could be any number of reasons," "Okay, we're going to do something. I want you to describe Spencer, as you see him, as you feel him," he suggests."Describe when he rambles about scientific nonsense that none of us understand,"

"Cristo, è fottutamente adorabile! Parla solo e Quando si rende conto che Nessuno lo sta seguendo, diventa tutto agitato e cerca di tornare indietro, ma nonpuò perché Lui ti ha già detto i meccanismi di qualsiasi oggetto stupido e Anonimo che stavamo discutendo in quel momento," she rants, blushing when she realizes that Morgan has no clue what she just said. "Um, sorry, I turn Italian when I'm talking passionately with no filter,"

"It's okay. Just repeat what you said, but in English." He laughs, and she translates, "Christ, it's fucking adorable! He just talks and when he realizes that no one is following along, he gets all flustered and tries to backtrack but he can't because he's already told you the mechanics of whatever stupid, nondescript object we were discussing at the time," 

When they walk in, everyone else is already on the couch, eating pizza and watching reruns of The Brady Bunch. "I'm going to shower. Um, there's a shower down here and 4 other ones upstairs if you all want to shower, too. Towels are in the upstairs hall closet," She smiles awkwardly before jogging upstairs and rummaging through her closet, grabbing her go-to club outfit.

Sheundresses and gets in the shower, scrubbing her body with coconut-aloe soap, bringing the razor over her legs and underarms, wincing when the blade nicks her knee. She shampoos her hair, rinsing and coating only the ends with conditioner to calm the frizziness. Finally, she washes her face, letting the serum bubble and burn the dead skin from her nose. And then she stands under the hot water, letting it soothe her muscles, knowing she's going to hurt like hell tonight. When she gets out, she quickly dries off and slips on her robe and a pair of panties.

Her hair is twisted on the top of her head, held only by her palm as she calls down the stairs, "My bathroom is free!" Spencer comes jogging up, carrying a wash-rag and a towel, giving her a small smile and disappearing into the steamy room. "Your shower is awesome!" he calls, making her laugh. "Yeah, the steam shower was a good investment," she calls back.

She begins to get ready, smoothing sweet-smelling lotion over her legs and stomach, pulling on her strapless bra and army-green off-the-shoulder long-sleeved shirt. She pulls on the camouflage overalls and sits at her vanity, blowing her hair dry and straightening it, brushing mascara over her lashes and filling in her eyebrows.

She pulls on tan lace-up boots and heads downstairs where everyone is sitting around the kitchen table, watching Mrs. Fiore cleaning. Hotch is in his usual outfit, a full suit and tie, while Rossi is a bit more casual, in a plain button down shirt and slacks. "Rossi and I aren't going in. We probably wouldn't fit in much, and we want to be outside in case anything goes wrong," he explains at her confused look. 

JJ is wearing a pair of blue skinny jeans, nude heels, and a silky blue tank top, while Emily is wearing a black wrap-dress with a scarf around her neck, a jean jacket completing the look. "Are we just waiting on Morgan and Spencer?" she asks, receiving nods from her team.

When the men finally come downstairs, they are talking passionately. (That's the wrong word, I mean, talking, idk, like,they need to discuss something. Urgently?) Morgan is wearing a white T-shirt with jeans and a leather jacket, nice sneakers on his feet. "I don't know about this, Morgan," Spencer says, tugging uncomfortably on his hoodie, which is complimented by a pair of black jeans and a faded jean jacket, white Nike sneakers on his feet. 

"You guys look good," Bridgette grins, looking them over. "I like this, Spencer. Just... loosen up. Relax. Act like you want to be there," They pile into one of the black SUVs borrowed from LVMPD, driving to the club. "So, I'm going to be on the floor probably all night, I might get distracted, but if I play it right, the unsub should still notice me and show some interest. 

I can't hang out with you guys; I have to look alone... easily accessible. Amelia would have been looking to party, so that would have been easy, and Mariah has a hard time saying no, especially when she's drinking. I am not going to drink, but I do need you guys to watch my back. I think the unsub might have gone to school with us, or went to the church, or otherwise. There was a fairly large group of people in high school obsessed with our choir," Bridgette turns halfway, looking at her 4 friends in the car, JJ in the front seat, Morgan, Spencer, and Emily in the back. 

"Do you have the bug behind your ear?" Morgan asks, reaching to lift her hair off of her back, reassured when he sees the small black microphone taped directly behind her ear. "I really stuck it on there, so the only way interference is possible is if I get hit somehow directly on the bug. Oh, also, if I'm near a microphone, that'll mess with the signal," she tells her team, Hotch and Rossi in the SUV following them, listening to the crackly voices bouncing through the speaker.

"It's a little iffy, but we can hear enough," Rossi speaks into his earpiece to Spencer. "If you get into any trouble, shoot me a look or something. I'd hate for you to get hurt, babydoll," Morgan pats her cheek, and she wrinkles her nose.


	5. Chapter 5

When they get there, they find that the club is so crowded that they have to park in the lot 2 blocks down, in front of a closed Applebee's. Emily takes Bridgette's phone, slipping it in her purse so she won't have to worry about losing. 

"Take my wallet, too," "But your identification card is in it. If you have to arrest him, you're going to need to show it," Spencer objects. "If I need to arrest him, you will all be there with me to show it if he requests," she pats his arm as they walk. "We should probably begin to split, in case he's watching already," Emily suggests. "Okay, but wait," Morgan takes Bridgette's shoulders gently. "Do you have your dagger?"

She pulls on the side of her overalls, showing the intricately designed dagger in the holster which has been sewn in. 

"You guys have your firearms and spare ammunition?" she asks, and they nod. "Good. You can follow me, but try not to look too invested in my activities," she orders, smiling and picking up her pace, standing in the long line that is waiting for admission. When she approaches the greying bouncer, her face lights up. "Sammy!" she exclaims, grinning. She throws her arms around his neck. 

"I missed you Gioia," he murmurs. "And I you. Me and my team are here, but I'm afraid I have to be separated from them for a little while. About 10 people down the line, there are 4 people, 2 females and 2 males. I wish I could formally introduce you to them, but if you'd like, you can speak with them when they come for admission," she kisses her godfather's cheek before walking inside, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

"Oh, signore omnipotente," she breathes, taking in the flashing, multi-colored strobe lights, the loud, pounding bass pumping from the speakers, and the distinct smell of too-much-body spray, sweat, and beer. "Birdie," She hears behind her, and she turns to see her other cousin, the triplet to Logan and Lucas, Liam. "Sciocco," she grins, pulling him for a hug.

"How are you doing?" "I'm very well, thank you. I've been sober 3 months now," he grins, proud. "That's amazing!Congratulazioni!" she laughs. Liam Fiore has been in and out of rehabilitation facilities for the past 5 years. First, it was his addiction to hallucinogenic drugs, and when that ended about a year after it started, he turned to alcohol, which had been an ongoing, torturous battle. He had been hospitalized with alcohol poisoning at least 3 times. He shouldn't even be alive right now! 

"Abriana is pregnant," he smiles, and she gasps. "Che grande!" "It's been three months. She's been hoping for a girl,but I really don't have a preference," "Have you been thinking of names?" "For a little girl we were thinking Ranata Mariette, and for a little boy we were thinking Nicoli Primo," Tears come to the Italian profiler's eyes. "Mariette is my middle name, mi lusingate. You're going to give me a big head," she chuckles. 

"But, cugina, you already have one," Bridgette scoffs and hugs her cousin once more. "You are always welcome to come and stay in Virginia. I know I'm not always able to take vacations, with my job," she tells him before walking away, squeezing into the crowd.

"Ciao," Sammy extends his hand to his goddaughter's team. "I am Samuel, Bridgette's godfather. I have heard many things about you," Morgan shakes the man's hand, smiling. "Yes, we love her. She brings happiness to our office, even when we're dealing with something... less than pleasant," Spencer smiles. "You. Dr. Spencer Reid, yes?" "Yes, that is me," "You take care of my Gioia, you hear me?" Samuel looks into Spencer's eyes, his coal black ones flat and cold looking. Something about him is making Spencer uneasy, although he isn't quite sure exactly what it is. 

"I will, sir," he smiles awkwardly and follows his team into the club, momentarily blinded by the lights, deafened by the music. He looks to the stage to see a pair of young girls, probably in their early 20's, tipsy and singing their hearts out on the stage. Automatically, he begins to profile them. The girl on the left, the brunette, is a victim of abuse, but hides it from others. She suffers from chronic depression, probably due to familial complications as a small child,

"Reid," Morgan laughs, gesturing for the doctor to follow him to a cluster of seats nestled in the corner. "Do you see her?" he asks, standing on his tiptoes to get a glimpse of the beautiful, clueless girl. She's too smart for her own good, but she overthinks, glossing over obvious facts that are thrown directly in her face. 

Bridgette is being pushed around between half-naked women and horny men, but she has never felt more alive. "Alright, alright, alright! That was... something. Give it up for these girls, Reminisce!" Logan yells into the mic, the music fading into the background. "Do we have any more aspiring artists in the crowd?" His gaze lands on his blushing cousin, who is frantically shaking her head at him. "Bridgette Fiore, everyone! Get up here, Bridgette!"

Everyone's heads snap toward her as soon as the DJ utters her name, and Morgan laughs as she inches up the stage, trying to resist being pulled onstage by her cousin. "Everyone, Bridgette Fiore! Some of you may recognize her, some of you regulars, as the manager's niece. Others may recognize her as the next Whitney Houston," Her face turns bright red and she turns her back to the crowd, muttering angrily to Logan. 

"Stop it! I haven't been up here in 10 years! Nobody recognizes me," she hisses, her heart nearly jumping out of her throat when someone in the audience whistles, calling out, "Let's hear you, Nightingale!" She blushes at her teenage nickname. "Alright, okay, calm down, I'll sing," her voice makes the mic shriek. "Ooh, so sorry," she winces, backing up some. 

The beginning of Whitney Houston's 'I wanna dance with somebody' begins to play, and she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade. Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away. I've done alright up to now, it's the light of day that shows me how. And when the night falls, loneliness calls. Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody. Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody. With somebody who loves me," she sings, her eyes closing as she belts out the lyrics, straining to get the pitch right, after not singing Whitney Houston for 10 years.


	6. Chapter 6

"Wow," Spencer sits back, unable to look away from Bridgette, on the stage, singing her heart out. Her voice captures the entire club, and it's nearly silent. He hears a small clatter and looks over to see Samuel by the bar, mopping up a broken glass and staring at her. "Hey, Morgan," he murmurs, and his associate leans closer.

"Something doesn't feel right about that guy. Do you see the way he's watching her?" "Are you saying he might be the unsub?" Morgan scoffs. "Maybe," "Spencer, it's her godfather. He's watching her because he's proud. His goddaughter is on the stage singing like she's on America's Got Talent, and he helped raise her," he says. "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'm probably just being paranoid,"

The music fades out, and soon the only sound in the entire club is Bridgette holding the last note, and when she stops singing, breathing heavy, the entire building explodes with clapping, people whistling and shouting. A huge grin spreads across her face and she blushes, swinging her clasped hands behind her. 

"More!" "Encore!" These shouts come from throughout the club. "One more, then I have to go. Really," she looks at Logan, who nods and plays the opening music for Whitney Houston's 'I'm your baby tonight'. A look at Spencer is all the motivation she needs. He's looking at her like she's an angel, like he can't believe he works with her. He's looking at her like 'what the hell?'

"From the moment I saw you, I went outta my mind  
I never believed in love at first sight  
But you got a magic, boy, that I just can't explain  
Well, you got a, you got a way that you make me feel  
I can do, I can do anything for you, baby," she sings, stomping her foot and letting the passion of singing completely overtake her. From the bar, Samuel is watching her while absentmindedly cleaning. While Morgan has confidence in this man, his true intentions are... despicable.

"Thank you,everybody. You've been lovely. And thank you for the amazing welcome back," Bridgette smiles from the stage, scanning the crowd for anyone who might be paying too much attention to her, and her eyes land on her godfather. "Whoo! Go Bridgette!" He yells, grinning and cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Penelope," Spencer stands, talking into his phone and walking outside where it's quieter. "You've reached the fortress of wonders, how may I help you?" "Hey, can you run a background check on,uh, Samuel Morelli?" 

"Mm hmm. Who is he?" "He's Bridgette's godfather. His body language around her is strange. Like, non-familial," Spencer says. "Does she know you're checking out her godfather?" "No, and it's probably best she doesn't. He's family, she's not going to want to believe that, therefore, she won't," "Okay. Well, it doesn't seem like anything serious, but he was banned from the school. It seems he was obsessive over the choir girls and they were getting uncomfortable," 

"Okay, thank you, can you send me that information?" "Yep, it is sent and on your mobile device," "Thanks." he hangs up and jogs back inside, running straight into the wide chest of none other than-you guessed it- Samuel Morelli. "Are you looking at me as a suspect?" he growls. "You think I'd hurt Bridgette? She is my whole world!"

"Sir, I am simply considering every option," Spencer holds his hands up in defense. "Well, I am not an option to consider. Is that understood?" "Sammy!" a high voice laughs, throwing her arms around his waist. "Hey there, babygirl," he grins, a cold look in his eye as he pets her hair. 

"I haven't felt like that in 10 years. OHMYGOD that was exhilarating." "You've always had the perfect voice. And now your perfectness is complete," Suddenly Bridgette notices Spencer, boxed against the wall by her godfather. "What's going on? Are you okay, cara mio?" "Do not worry, my love. The doctor and I were just talking about the Golden Knights, and their loss on Tuesday. Come with me, I must show you something," With a meaningful glare at Spencer, he ushers Bridgette away, rubbing her lower back sensuously.

"What the hell was that, man?" Morgan jogs up, furrowing his brow. "He's the unsub. And he has her. I didn't want to scare her and say something while he was there, but now she's alone with him. He was banned from her school 12 years ago for making the girls in choir very uncomfortable," "Shit," JJ curses, palming her gun. 

"I missed you so much, baby," Samuel murmurs, holding Bridgette's face against his chest and smelling her hair deeply. "I missed you, too, but, what's going on? Let go for a moment, I have to fix my bra," she makes up an excuse to reach for her dagger, and then she palms it, hiding the hilt up her sleeve. "Nothing. I've missed you so much," he repeats, and she glances down to find his growing erection. "Will you sing for me, bambino carino? Hearing you-it does something to me. Sets my blood on fire," he takes her hand and places it over the bulge in his pants. "S-Sammy, no. You're like my father," she pulls away, backing up. 

"Oh, even better. You are more than welcome to call me Daddy," he smirks, pulling his pocketknife out of his pocket. And with a swift kick, he knocks the dagger, her only weapon, out of her hand, where it slides across the floor and under the minifridge. "Sing for me, Bridgette," he demands. "Okay, okay," she sinks to the floor, beginning to shake. "You shout it out, but I can't hear a word you say," "In Italian," he snarls, grabbing her hand and bringing the serrated blade harshly against the palm. "Ah! Per favore! Perché stai facendo questo? Pensavo mi amassi!" she cries out. "Italian," he growls again, cutting her palm again, creating an 'X' and squeezing to make the blood drip quicker. 

"Tu lo gridi, Ma non sento una parola di ciò che dici.Sto parlando forte non sto dicendo molto, Sono criticato ma tutti i tuoi proiettili rimbalzano. Mi abbatti, ma mi rialzo." she sings, sobs of betrayal and fear wracking her body. "Stop crying! You're ugly when you cry," he snaps, continuing to bring the blade across her hand.

"Logan," Spencer run into the DJ booth, panting. "Where would Samuel take Bridgette?" "I don't know," "If they were to stay in the building-" "The cellar. But why would he- it's unfinished. Dusty," "Thanks," JJ races to the bar, hopping over, earning shocked gasps from partygoers.

"FBI, drop the weapon," Morgan yells when he reaches the bottom, finding Bridgette on the floor, shaking and singing hoarsely, blood pouring out of her palm. "I said drop the weapon!" A shot goes off, hitting Samuel in the arm holding the knife. Morgan runs to cuff him. "You are being arrested. You have the right to remain..." "Bree," Spencer drops his gun and runs to the girl, falling onto his knees and pulling her onto his lap. "So...tired," she pants, her eyes sliding shut. "Sleep then, I've got you. You're okay. It's okay," he brushes her hair out of her face and holds her closer.


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh my goodness, Bridgette," Penelope crushes the girl in a hug as soon as she steps foot in the BAU building. "Hey," she laughs, hugging back. "I am so, so sorry," "So am I," she shrugs, "What happened, happened. I can't change it. So I've decided to accept it. Some things in life are just too good to be true. Anyway, I know we just got back and you all probably want to rest, but I'm probably going to cook... a lot tonight if you all want to join me," "Absolutely!" Spencer exclaims, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "Are you making Italian?" "La Colombe piangono?" she replies, making Spencer laugh. 

"What? What'd she say?" Morgan narrows his eyes. "She said, 'Do doves cry?'." "According to Prince, yes, yes they do," Morgan laughs. "I'll put my address in the group chat. I should probably head home to prep the food," "No. You shouldn't drive," Spencer protests, gesturing to her hand, wrapped in gauze to cover the stitches she received in the Boulder City hospital. "If you want to drive me home, be my guest," she wrinkles her nose, tossing her keys at him and skipping outside. 

The ride to her house is silent, neither one of them knowing what to say, their feeling for each other confirmed when there was a chance they'd never be able to see each other again. "Romeo, shut up! It's me, god damn it," she shouts, frustrated as she tries to turn the lock on her house. When she does, Romeo jumps on Spencer, knocking him down and licking his face aggressively.

"Smettila, testa de cazzo," she mutters, pushing the pit bull of of him with her foot. "La mia casa e tu lua casa," she calls, flicking on the kitchen lights, "Make yourself at home," She rummages around in her pantry and fridge, setting out ingredients. "Wow, I love your house," Penelope calls, cooing at Romeo, who is rolling around at her feet. "Thank you. I actually don't stay here often. While I own it, I generally stay with my friend, Cecilia. She just had a baby and it's proving to be exhausting. But feel free to look around! I'm making pasta e fagioli," she smiles and turns back to her kitchen. 

"Let's go looking," Penelope grabs Spencer's hand and pulls him up the stairs. "This must be her room," Penelope mutters when they walk into what appears to be the master bedroom. "It's so pretty! Gosh, I wish I lived here. Spencer, ya gotta make your move! Do you see where you could be? Right there," she points at the bed, "Right next to her," "No, that's not professional. She probably would rather be friends so that we can still work together without being distracted," 

"Babydoll, can I stay with you tonight?" Morgan calls downstairs. "What?" she yells back while stirring the pasta. "Nothing. I'm just jealous of your bathroom," he laughs, and her snort of amusement is heard all over the house. "You have a pool?" JJ yells, and the snort is back. "You guys are welcome to go swimming," "We don't have bathing suits," Emily puts her hands on her hips. "I have spares. I don't know what sizes you are, though, but I have extras. Mamma left some." "Hmm..." 

"Morgan," she laughs when he comes down pulling his shirt off, "What the hell are you doing?" "Improvising, babydoll," he grins, stepping out of his jeans and jumping into the pool, wearing only his boxers. "Stupido stronzo," she mutters. With a bark of happiness, Romeo follows the profiler into the pool. "Oh my god," she laughs, pulling the pot off of the stove and placing the glass lid on top. 

She shakes her head, muttering in Italian as she runs up the stairs, pushing past Spencer and Penelope to grab her suit from her dresser and shutting the bathroom door, coming back out wearing a strappy black swimsuit that Spencer can't seem to look away from. "Come on," she stands on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek before sprinting down the stairs and diving into the pool.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh my goodness, Bridgette," Penelope crushes the girl in a hug as soon as she steps foot in the BAU building. "Hey," she laughs, hugging back. "I am so, so sorry," "So am I," she shrugs, "What happened, happened. I can't change it. So I've decided to accept it. Some things in life are just too good to be true. Anyway, I know we just got back and you all probably want to rest, but I'm probably going to cook... a lot tonight if you all want to join me," "Absolutely!" Spencer exclaims, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "Are you making Italian?" "La Colombe piangono?" she replies, making Spencer laugh. 

"What? What'd she say?" Morgan narrows his eyes. "She said, 'Do doves cry?'." "According to Prince, yes, yes they do," Morgan laughs. "I'll put my address in the group chat. I should probably head home to prep the food," "No. You shouldn't drive," Spencer protests, gesturing to her hand, wrapped in gauze to cover the stitches she received in the Boulder City hospital. "If you want to drive me home, be my guest," she wrinkles her nose, tossing her keys at him and skipping outside. 

The ride to her house is silent, neither one of them knowing what to say, their feeling for each other confirmed when there was a chance they'd never be able to see each other again. "Romeo, shut up! It's me, god damn it," she shouts, frustrated as she tries to turn the lock on her house. When she does, Romeo jumps on Spencer, knocking him down and licking his face aggressively.

"Smettila, testa de cazzo," she mutters, pushing the pit bull of of him with her foot. "La mia casa e tu lua casa," she calls, flicking on the kitchen lights, "Make yourself at home," She rummages around in her pantry and fridge, setting out ingredients. "Wow, I love your house," Penelope calls, cooing at Romeo, who is rolling around at her feet. "Thank you. I actually don't stay here often. While I own it, I generally stay with my friend, Cecilia. She just had a baby and it's proving to be exhausting. But feel free to look around! I'm making pasta e fagioli," she smiles and turns back to her kitchen. 

"Let's go looking," Penelope grabs Spencer's hand and pulls him up the stairs. "This must be her room," Penelope mutters when they walk into what appears to be the master bedroom. "It's so pretty! Gosh, I wish I lived here. Spencer, ya gotta make your move! Do you see where you could be? Right there," she points at the bed, "Right next to her," "No, that's not professional. She probably would rather be friends so that we can still work together without being distracted," 

"Babydoll, can I stay with you tonight?" Morgan calls downstairs. "What?" she yells back while stirring the pasta. "Nothing. I'm just jealous of your bathroom," he laughs, and her snort of amusement is heard all over the house. "You have a pool?" JJ yells, and the snort is back. "You guys are welcome to go swimming," "We don't have bathing suits," Emily puts her hands on her hips. "I have spares. I don't know what sizes you are, though, but I have extras. Mamma left some." "Hmm..." 

"Morgan," she laughs when he comes down pulling his shirt off, "What the hell are you doing?" "Improvising, babydoll," he grins, stepping out of his jeans and jumping into the pool, wearing only his boxers. "Stupido stronzo," she mutters. With a bark of happiness, Romeo follows the profiler into the pool. "Oh my god," she laughs, pulling the pot off of the stove and placing the glass lid on top. 

She shakes her head, muttering in Italian as she runs up the stairs, pushing past Spencer and Penelope to grab her suit from her dresser and shutting the bathroom door, coming back out wearing a strappy black swimsuit that Spencer can't seem to look away from. "Come on," she stands on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek before sprinting down the stairs and diving into the pool.


	9. Chapter 9

"What... are you wearing?" Morgan asks, eyes wide when she surfaces, pushing her hair out of her face and kicking her feet to keep her head above the water. "Shut... up," she pants, reaching out to cling to his shoulders. "We're only in 5-foot deep water," 

"Yeah, and I'm exactly 5-feet-tall," she blows a raspberry. "Anyway, I got this suit for a party during college, and I meant to get rid of it, but it's comfortable as hell," "Don't get rid of it, princess," he grins. Bridgette blows out and flops onto her back, closing her eyes. 

As everyone else joins them in the pool, they taunt Spencer. "Come on, man," "No, I'm good," he crosses his arms defiantly, not noticing Bridgette behind him until she tackles him into the water. "Oh my. God, Bree!" he sputters when he surfaces. "Sorry," she giggles, holding onto him, "Are you okay?" "Yeah, but... Jesus, Bridgette!" 

"You were being a bum," she turns to swim away, but Romeo decides at that moment to jump in, landing on her back and pushing her down. When she tries to surface, the dog panics, clambering up and continuously pushing her under. 

"Romeo!" she gasps, trying to push him off, and then someone grabs her waist and pulls her away, lifting her out of the pool, setting her on the edge. She doubles over, coughing and sputtering. "Are you okay?" Spencer asks, his hands still around her waist. "Yeah," she pants, standing and walking inside to grab his tennis balls. 

"Jerk," she mutters, chucking it far into her backyard. "Aw, come on babydoll, he didn't mean it," "Yeah, well, it's not the first time he almost killed me, either," she pouts, crossing her arms and sitting on the edge of the pool. 

"I'll play with him, keep him occupied," Rossi offers, but she shakes her head. "No, you don't have to do that. I can bring him over to my neighbor, he'll watch him. God, I hate that fucker, but Romeo loves him for some reason. 

"Bridgette!" a male voice shouts, and coming around the side of the house comes a man with bright red hair, carrying the tennis ball and being followed by Romeo. "You need to keep track of him. He'll get hit by a car if you continue being stupid. And why didn't you tell me you had people over?" he grouches. 

"Hi, Oscar," she sighs. "I knew he'd go to you. He almost drowned me, again, so I thought he'd have a better time with you. And I didn't tell you I invited them over is because these are my coworkers, and my friends, and it doesn't concern you," 

"You might as well just give up all rights to Romeo, with how much he clearly hates being with you," he snaps. "Hm. He hates being with me? Romeo, come here baby," she crouches pursing her lips when he trots over to her. 

"Give mama kisses," The dog begins to aggressively lick her face, and Spencer grimaces. "I think he loves me. And I love him. Now, I'm allowing my baby to be with you because you enjoy it and so does he. I don't like you. Don't come onto my property to talk down to me. If you would like to watch him for me, then thank you, and you know the way out. If not, then fine. But you still have to leave," 

He 'humphs' and stomps away. "Grumpy ass idiot," she mutters, turning back to her guests. "What?" "That was disgusting," "Oh, so you don't want a kiss?" she teases Spencer, wiping her face with the towel and saying, "Is anyone hungry?" She gets loud agreements from everyone and wraps the towel around herself to go mix the sauce and noodles, bringing out plates and silverware for them to eat. 

The food is quickly devoured, the plates stacked in the sink. "That was amazing. Do you need any help cleaning up?" Hotch offers, but she shakes her head. "No. Absolutely not. Just, enjoy yourselves. Have fun. Be kids again, that's what this house if for," she winks at Penelope, going inside to clean the dishes. 

"Oh, by the way, there's a shortcut through the woods that takes you to that little mini-golf place. 5 minute walk, tops," she calls, and everyone claps, excited. Everyone except for Spencer, who is staring intently at her. "We're going, then. Meet us there?" JJ calls back, and Bridgette nods. "Spence, coming?" "No, I think I'm going to stay and help Bree clean," he calls back, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Okay, well, have fun," Penelope says, and before leaving, Morgan turns and winks at him.

"Hey, I'm soaking wet," he calls inside. "I know. So am I. Come on in," she smiles at him, up to her elbows in soap-bubbles. "You can go upstairs and use my shower if you want. I'll put your clothes in the dryer so Morgan will allow you in his car when you leave. In the guest room dresser there are some sweatpants and shorts, and a few T-shirts that my brother left behind," 

She finishes the dishes while he's in the shower and jogs up the stairs to throw it in the dryer, knocking on the bathroom door. "Microbino mio, are you okay? Do you need anything?" "Did you just call me your little microbe?" "Mm hm. And you loved it," "God, you're hilarious. But, yeah, I'm good."

She grabs her bathrobe from her closet and jumps into the guest bathroom shower, letting the warm water wash over her. Then she hears a crash, and jumps out of the shower, quickly tying her bathrobe around her and skidding into her room, falling backwards on her back. "Are you okay?" Spencer asks, helping her up, keeping one hand on the towel around his waist. "Yeah," she sighs, embarrassed. "Go dress, I'll be right back," She touches his cheek before going back to the bathroom and turning the water off. "Essere ancora il mio cuore pulsante," she mutters, looking at herself in the mirror, her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes and her cheeks flushed.

When she goes into the hallway, she slips on a puddle of water, landing hard on her tailbone and crying out. "Are you okay?" Spencer comes out, pulling on a white T-shirt, the sweatpants hanging a little low on his hips. "That's the second time you fell within 5 minutes," he smiles crooked, crouching to help her stand-AGAIN. "I guess I'm a bit distracted," she admits, pulling her robe down slightly, being completely nude underneath. I wonder if that registers to him. The fact that I'm in front of him, the only thing keeping my body from him being a thin layer of cotton.


	10. Chapter 10

"Thank you for having me over," he smiles, and she nods. "Of course. Can I make you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Cocoa?" "You have cocoa?" he raises an eyebrow, laughing when she replies with, "Always," She walks to the kitchen, walking instinctively on the balls of her feet as she waits for the milk to heat up, and then she mixes the chocolate packets in, pouring two mugs and bringing it to where Spencer is sitting, on the couch. "One cocoa for my favorite profiler," she chirps, playfully ruffling his hair. "I'm your favorite?" 

"Yes, but don't tell Morgan. He'll be offended," she whispers, leaning back on the pillows and turning on the TV, plopping her legs on his lap. "What do you want to watch?" he asks, and she flushes. "Honestly?" He nods. "You," When his face freezes, her heart sinks and she moves to get up quickly. "I'm sorry. That was- I'm sorry," she walks quickly into the kitchen, leaning her forehead on the stainless steel refrigerator.

"I'm sorry, one more time?" he walks quickly to her. "What?" "What did you say? I'm afraid that I heard you wrong," "No, you probably heard me right. It's stupid, I'm sorry. Um, do you want to watch Cops?" "Did you say you wanted to watch... me?" 

"Oh my god, Spencer! Yes! Okay? Yes!" she leans her head back, closing her eyes to slow the tears that are threatening to spill. "Sto- no, Bridgette, look at me," he says, his voice shifting into the one he uses when he's talking unsubs down from murder. "Bridgette Mariette Fiore, look at me," he takes her elbows, and she looks at him, tears rolling down her face. "Why are you crying?" "It doesn't matter," she mutters, leaning her forehead against his chest. 

"If I have to tell you to look at me one more time, I swear..." Slowly, she lifts her head, looking into his eyes, and he leans in. Her heart tries to escape through her mouth as their lips collide, his warm hands cupping her face. "What is happening?" she cries. "Please don't cry," he begs, and she laughs loudly, hiccuping. "Spencer, I need to get dressed," "Oh," "No, you don't understand. Underneath the robe, the only thing I'm wearing is my skin," 

"OH," he nods, backing away. "Please don't leave," she whispers, jogging up the stairs to throw on a pair of cotton shorts and a cropped white T-shirt, brushing her teeth quickly and practically jumping down the stairs. She crawls next to him on the couch, leaning into his side, biting her lip to stifle a grin. "Can I kiss you again?" he asks, and she lets out a laugh. She pushes her lips against his and swings her leg over his, straddling his lap, giggling at the momentary confusion Spencer radiates. But then his hands circle her waist, rubbing the skin under her shirt, his tongue bumping against hers.

"Damn it," Bridgette hisses when there's a knock at the door. She opens the door to find Oscar with Romeo, and, without a glance, he throws the ball in, turning to stomp back to his house. And just as she's leaning down to kiss Spencer again, the door opens, the team coming in, and, to her disappointment, he quickly pushes her to the side, acting like nothing was happening. 

"That was fun," they laugh. "Reid, let's go, and babydoll, thanks for having me over. The food was delicious, and I might just steal you," Morgan says, and, one by one they thank her and leave. "Romeo, what just happened?" she says happily, skipping up the stairs and rolling onto her bed, sketching photo after photo of Dr. Spencer Reid. 

I really like her, Spencer thinks, but I think we should stay professional. How do I tell her?

"Mm," Bridgette groans, grabbing her phone off of her nightstand and squinting at it. She sees a missed call and a text from Spencer.

I'm sorry about last night. It was a mistake. I think we need to keep it professional, she reads. "No," she whispers, tears filling her eyes. Sighing, she swings her legs over the bed, stepping directly in a puddle of water, which surprises her and makes her drop her phone. "Damn it," she curses, padding down the stairs and seeing how bad it really is. 

There is water dripping down the stairs, and she has to go slowly so she doesn't slip. She walks around the house, picking things off of the floor and carrying them onto her front porch to dry out, and then calls for Romeo. Following the sounds of his happy yapping, she finds him paddling around in the basement, which is FILLED with water- and the water smells. 

"Romeo, why?" she whines, wading into the basement to help pull her dog from the water.   
"Come on, baby, let's go see Uncle Morgan," He follows her out to her car, jumping directly in the backseat, panting and licking himself while she drives the 10 minutes to her office. "You can get out, but you have to stay with me. DO NOT run to them," she orders, waiting for someone to enter or exit the building, sighing with relief when she sees Anderson hurrying to his car. 

"Anderson!" she calls, and he looks at her, furrowing his brow at her soaked clothes and messy hair. "I need you to go inside and get the team. Tell them Fiore needs them. Like, really bad," she tells him, waiting impatiently as he jogs inside. 

"What the hell is taking them so long?" she mutters 5 minutes later. "Babydoll, what's wrong?" she hears, snapping her head up to find Morgan and the rest of the team, including Penelope, following closely behind. Romeo let's out a bark and sprints for him. "No!" Bridgette yells, exasperated. "What the hell? Why does he smell like that?" Morgan laughs, holding his nose. 

"I think my sewage tank burst. My basement is full and I have no idea what to do. Can we have an emergency team cleanup session? I am NOT going to be able to do all of the on my own. The water in the basement is almost as tall as me, for goodness sake," "Yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Why don't you head home and we'll follow," Rossi says, and Spencer tries to meet her eyes, but she can't bring herself to look at him.


End file.
